


Tell Me No Lies Of Kings And Crowns

by Ea4g



Series: Tell Me No Lies [1]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Castles, Every other kind of ism, F/F, F/M, Fugitives, Kingdoms, Loss, Love, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Multi, Other, Racism, Sexism, Spoilers, Villains Can Die AU, starco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-10 14:05:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ea4g/pseuds/Ea4g
Summary: Sun The WayfinderƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄ƷUnwanted Prince of MewniWas Outcast, Stalked and SpurnedBut Found a Friend to Light the WayAnd in Glory Did ReturnAureole Sign: Lion DragonHeight: 6'AttributesStrength: 14 Flight: 20Intelligence: 15 Constitution: 18Wisdom: 17 Charisma: 11++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++This story is Rated M for Graphic Violence, Sexism, Racism and Mild Sexual Content. If any of these trigger violent emotional reactions, please seek your entertainment elsewhere.





	1. Newborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something of an AU where villains can actually die. Toffee consumed Ludo bringing himself back and Meteora wasn't reborn after her fight with Eclipsa.

**“No matter your social status or how powerful you feel you are, we are all equal. We came here by birth and will leave in death.”** – F. Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

**Royall Palace, Butterfly Kingdom, Realm of Mewni**

It certainly was a colorful crowd, the Crown Steward thought to himself, everyone dressed in their very finest and most festive garb. That mostly meant pink with high-flying plumes. And it was getting more and more restless every minute, the Civic Guardsman thought, if the volume of their muttering and whispering was anything to judge by. The Royal Guards stationed at the gate tightened their grips on their poleaxes, their faces growing even sterner if that was possible. Excited crowds, they knew, had a habit of turning into rioting mobs which had to be put down, even on such an occasion as this. And this was indeed a joyous occasion, one which attracted more and more people as the morning wore on. The muttering, hushed conversations between friends and neighbors were all held in excited tones, as if something truly spectacular might come parading out of the palace door at any moment. The energy in the air matched the looks on every face, the one you might expect to see on a child when he or she wakes up to a foot of snow and wonders if school is canceled. That of great excitement mixed with breath-holding anticipation. While no such holiday had been proclaimed this day, schools had indeed been canceled and children from across the land were as well represented in that sea of faces as adults. After all, it wasn’t every day the heir to the throne was born.

Yes it was time at last. Maids and servants from the palace had brought the news down themselves. Star Butterfly, The Rebel Queen of all Mewmanity, heavily pregnant these last ten months, had gone into labor in the early hours of the morning. As decreed by their very protective warrior King Marco, all non-essential palace staff was to keep away from the royal residences and the Royal Healer had been summoned to aid in the birth. Meanwhile, the crowd now standing outside the palace gates had been steadily growing since dawn had brought the first few out of their beds to news from those few servants who’d managed to get away. Every royal birth was a well-attended affair, Star’s own birth had merited a parade nearly a mile long, a record which had stood firm for almost thirty years. This crowd however was looking fair to be larger even than that, as this birth was an especially auspicious event. The very first (as far as anyone knew at any rate) princess of Mewni to ever be born of two species.

“What will she be like?” the question was passed back and forth over and over again. “Will she look like her mother or her father?” “Will she have proper wings or will they grow different?” “Will she be strong like the King or a caster like the Queen?” “How can a Mewman and a Human have a kid together anyway?” “No, that’s not what I meant! Get your mind out of the gutter Thom!”

Such remarks, excepting the last two which came from only one conversation, were passed back and forth for hours as the sun climbed through the sky towards noon, and still no more news came from palace. Venders and cooks with their great iron pots set up stands and tables where the people could get a meal and they could get something out of the day besides sore feet. Noon past and the sun began to move towards the West once again, and the talk began to turn worried. Wives and grandmothers assured the anxious that some births took time, even as they themselves hid their own apprehension. What if the baby was deformed, as some hybrid species were? What if she were stillborn? What if the royal couple could not produce an heir at all? Nothing of the sort had ever happened before. What would become of a kingdom with no heir?

Then, just as the very edge of the sun touched the Western horizon, a single trumpet sounded from the palace. It came from the lip of an open balcony, which overlooked the courtyard and gate where the now truly startlingly large crowd had gathered. A hush fell as the Royal Herald, who had been holding himself in readiness all day long, stepped out into the dying sunlight. An enchanted clasp at the base of his throat glowed dimly, indicating that the spell which would carry his voice to everyone in that carnival of Mewmanity was fully active. With a deep breath, and a prayer to Magnus, God of magic and luck, the Herald began to speak.

**“Rejoice people of Mewni, for our Queen has given birth!”**

The roar of pure celebration which followed that proclamation was truly deafening. It shook the trees as birds, just getting themselves comfortable for the night, burst forth in twittering indignation. No one payed them any mind though. Every man, woman and child in that plaza seemed individually dedicated to ensuring their own personal happiness was heard by everyone. Complete strangers threw their arms around each other, weeping for joy as the cheers rolled on and on around them. And yet, even over that impressive din, the heralds’ magically enhanced voice carried clearly to every ear.

 **“Rejoice and celebrate my people, let the news be carried far and wide!”** A short pause and one more breath for courage, **“Let all join in as we welcome to the world our Crown Prince, Sun Butterfly, heir to the throne of Mewni!”**

As quickly as the cheers had begun they came to a sudden and startling halt. Absolute silence filled the air, which was somehow even more startling than the cheering had been in contrast. Expressions of joy melted into shock, eyes widening in startlement and confusion. _Prince_ Sun?! But, there had never been a Crown _Prince_ before?!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Royal Nursery, Butterfly Castle**

Marco Diaz of Earth, King Consort of Mewni, looked down on his newborn son already asleep in his wife and Queen’s arms. He was different than any other royal in the history books, that much was obvious even without the Royal Healer’s explanations. His lower set of arms and cute little bedraggled bats wings were already being absorbed into his torso, a far different arraignment of limbs that the past members of his house had boasted. His skin was different as well. While human genetics would have blended Marco’s own light brown Hispanic complexion with Star’s creamy white skin, it seemed that Mewman genetics worked on different principles where hybrids were concerned. The baby had each of his parents colors individually represented in patterns across his skin, the two colors seeming to chase one another around and around across his little person from head to toe. Even his eyes were mismatched, left eye blue and right eye brown. And then there was the obvious fact that, for the first time in all memory, a member of the Royal family had been born male. The only other near exception to that was Heartrude, and he had been adopted by Queen Etheria and stood very clearly outside the line of succession.

Marco couldn’t have cared less about any of that though. All he could focus on was the wonder of this multiverse that had given him and the love of his life a child of their very own. It had been a hard delivery for Star, mainly because Mewman women’s bodies weren’t designed to accommodate boney bats’ wings. The best Marco could guess was that the genetics which called for Mewman royalty to have wings and six arms had mixed with the human genetic connection to bats. While the doctor had said there was nothing unhealthy about their kid, that hadn’t abated any of the million worries running through Marco’s mind. What if he had some deformity inside or in his mind? What if his ability to use magic was compromised by his half human lineage? What if he could never have children of his own like the half breeds of Earth? Then the little body shifted in sleep and the little face with its oddly swirled complexion turned towards his father, and all worries fell away in a rush of love for the baby in his sleeping wife’s arms.

Sleeping no longer, Marco realized, as he raised his eyes from his son’s face and brown eyes met blue in the look of pure amazement he and Star had shared on countless occasions. The first time they’d met, the first time they fought together, the first time they kissed, the first time they’d made love. The day they got married, the day they were crowned Queen and King, and a million other little moments throughout the sixteen years they’d known one another. And now they shared it once again as their eyes met over the lightly fuzzed sleeping head of their son.

“I still say he looks like you” Star said quietly.

“Maybe in the cheekbones and jaw,” Marco responded with a grin, “but the eyes and nose are all yours. No Diaz man has ever had eyes that round or that little button of a nose, both of which I could not help but notice you have.” He gently tweaked the offending nose, but carefully so as not to rouse the sleeping newborn. Neither wanted to hear any more of their sons’ objections to all things wrong with the world than they absolutely had to.

Star couldn’t help but give her best and silliest grin back at her man. Seven years of marriage and five years of being reigning heads of state had done nothing to dampen their love for one another and they still enjoyed the sadly rare moments of silliness held in private. Unfortunately, the necessity of maintaining the dignity due a monarch of Star Butterfly’s reputation had greatly limited the number of times she could use her silly grin. Nowadays only Marco saw it. Though, if either of them had anything to say about it, the number of people admitted to their sillier antics had just gone up by one.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Marco voiced his concerns aloud for the first time since he’d heard those fateful words telling him his “daughter” was actually a son. “You heard the people out there. I’m not sure they were ready for the notion of a male heir. What if my being his Dad screwed up his entire future?”

Star moved one arm from its place, letting the sleeping baby recline against her breasts, to squeeze Marco’s hand in her own. “I’d like to see them try.” she said, her voice somehow both loving and threatening. “After everything you and I have been through, everyone who thought the Rebel Princess of Mewni and her human would be a soft target, Ludo, Toffee, Meteora and Globgor, you think people are going to even consider of going after our kid? Anyone who so much as sneezes impolitely in his general direction will have both of us to deal with, and the crater where Avarius Castle used to be gives everyone a pretty good idea of how that’s going to end. Besides, he’s going to be their King some day and nobody with any sense is going to want a future monarch to remember them with the hate of a child.” Marco met Star’s eyes and met her confident smile with one of his own. How could this be anything less than perfect? They had been even since Star came into his life all those years ago.

Sun meanwhile had apparently decided that sleeping for more than an hour at a time wasn’t for him yet and he set about very loudly proclaiming his lack of satisfaction with the multiverse. Star immediately set about quieting the infant, muttering quiet comfort into his two colored, slightly pointed ears.

“It’s all right Sunny. You’re okay. Shh… Shh…”

“Uch, why did I ever let you talk me into agree to that name?” Marco grumbled quietly as he moved to cradle both Star and Sun against his side.

“Because it’s family tradition and no Butterfly has even been in a position to use that one before.” Star responded in as sage a voice as she could manage while breast feeding a hungry newborn.

“Well, I still say it’s ridiculous. ‘Sun Butterfly’. You’d better hope you’re right about how people will react just to him being our son.”

Star just smiled at her husband and King and then set about fussing with the blanket wrapped around their baby as Marco began singing the Earth song that had truly inspired her son’s name.

_“You are my Sunshine,_

_My only Sunshine._

_You make me happy,_

_When skies are grey._

_You’ll never know dear,_

_How much I love you._

_Please don’t take my Sunshine away.”_


	2. A Thousand Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lay a foundation, then step away. Let it grow into something you might never expect."  
> -Cora Harper  
> Mass Effect Andromeda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to all_possible_worlds for their help in making this happen.

**17 Years Later**

**Somewhere Beneath the Royall Palace, Butterfly Kingdom, Realm of Mewni**

_Strike – Duck – Slash – Deflect – Stab – Incinerate_

Sun’s mind was totally blank, just as he had it trained to be during a fight. Even as the Things’ horrible screams at the loss of its limb grated against his eardrums, Sun was only focused on avoiding the second filthy, hook-edged tentacle coming to crush and skewer him. At a small sign from his left, Sun dodged backwards while his Ebrithil took his place fending off the new tentacles which had grown from the main body to replace the one just freshly incinerated.

Sun knew this wasn’t a rest, but he took the chance to clean the new layer of grime off the blade of his sword. It was a good meter and a half long, double edged and made entirely of clear, bluish crystal. The hilt and cross guard appeared to be made of bone and were almost ornamental in their simplicity. The only form of pure decoration was the sunburst symbol, what his father called a Virginia Sun, on the pommel. Cleaned, the blade seemed to glow with an iridescent light all its own, certainly projecting the sort of splendor expected of a crown prince. The body holding it was most definatly not, as whatever good looks he might have had were obscured by the layer of mud and grime which caked his skin and armor from head to toe. Still, not a trace of awareness of his highly unregal visage seemed to cross the young man's face. He simply set himself and flipped his sword through the air as if he meant to catch it by the blade, the very sharp blade made to slice through cast iron like it was tissue paper.

_“Wand”_ he commanded as the blade came down towards his bare palm. The blade and hilt began to glow white as the form of the sword shifted to something distinctly like a jackalopes’ horn. What was now resting in Suns’ hand certainly looked like a horn, though its color seemed closer to bone or antler than one might expect. It was now only about a meter long now, with the thinner end in the Princes’ hand curving and expanding to a wider end and the same bluish crystal coming out of the hollow end in a dozen different sharp points. If one were facing Sun and the wand, they would notice some of the inner crystals were gold instead of blue and formed same Virginia Sunburst pattern as had been on the swords’ pommel _._

Sun unfurled his wings, great leathery things with Suns’ characteristic swirl patterned coloring, and launched himself into the air. He brought the wand over his head as if it were still a sword and he intended to deliver a two-handed blow to whatever unfortunate thing lay in front of him. The point of this however, was to ensure Sun did not hit what was directly in front of him. A fine “thank you” that would be to his knight master for all he’d taught him over the years, Sun thought, but quickly banished it and the burst of amusement from his mind as he prepared his spell.

_SKYFIRE”_ Sun began, the crystal in the wand glowing brightly as he brought it down to point at the Thing, _"_ _SCATTERSHOT!”_ All at once, half a dozen bolts of energy shot from the wands’ crystal points and sped on curving arcs towards the Thing. None of the bolts could have been aimed at any one specific spot on its disgusting body, the spell didn’t work like that, but they didn’t have to be, as each one tore massive holes in its hide. The parts of it that were covered grease rather than dirt caught fire and its screams intensified and went on and on as the Thing bemoaned the intense pain of burning alive. Most important of all however, the force of the repeated blows from the spell forced the rest of its bulk out of the water and onto the marble floor.

Immediately Sir Lavabo rushed forward, leaping over the river in a single bound and slashing his sword clean through the Thing. Separated from its birth waters and now severed from the mana that had spawned and fueled its life, the Thing simply collapsed in on itself. The mix of mud and grime it had been made of ran down back into the river and flowing away downstream and through the grate in the wall. With its physical shape so scattered, it’d never coalesce into anything particularly threatening ever again.

Sun landed back of the floor, retracting his wings back into his torso as Sir Lavabo, Knight of the Wash, leapt back to his side of the river. The water, now free of the toxic Thing, returned to its usual babbling state, mixed liberally with sweet-smelling soap.

“Well done, your Highness,” he said with his soft smile. His accent was still odd yet pleasant to Suns’ ears and they exchanged the traditional knights’ salute.

“Thank you Ebrithil,” Sun replied, still breathless from the fight, but pleased as always to earn such high praise from the man who’d taught him which end of a sword was which. The knight was a very practical man, who said only what he meant exactly as he meant it. When he said something had been done well, it meant that whatever it was had been done to his total satisfaction without wasting breath on unnecessary effusive praise. Though his stories had been known to go on a while, they did so because they were worth listening to, a point which his mother often failed to appreciate.

“Now, back to work.” Lavabo said not unkindly, pointing a gauntleted finger at the unwashed remnants of the pile of laundry that Thing had interrupted.

“Yes sir.” Sun said, smiling at the fact that, even after the heavy work taking down an Execration, they still had a job to get back to. Plus it gave them both an opportunity to wash the filth off themselves while they worked. They took what was theirs to clean to opposite bends in the river, washboards and soap stones in hand, and set about their business.

Most teenagers would have resented being apprenticed to the castle laundry, and indeed fourteen year old Sun Butterfly, over the moon at being given the royal wand and promised to be taught by the greatest knight in all Mewni, had been put out to say the least. Any ideas Sun might have cherished about the unimportance of his new position were quickly erased after he barely survived just fixing the Lint Catcher. The only thing wrong with it was that it’d been turned off from the inside, but it was the traditional way to test potential recruits to the Knights of the Wash. Though kept a great secret from the world at large, the powers held by that particular knightly order were considerably greater than those of any other, not least amongst those being near immortality and invulnerability. These were simple necessities as those who possessed the aptitude to be a Knights of the Wash were few and very far between and the dangers of the job would kill anyone less than an immortal. They could still be killed if literally torn to pieces or eaten, but mere age or minor injury would not even slow them down. Sir Lavabo himself was seven centuries old and, thought a great man and teacher, had been the only Knight of the Wash for the last three, waiting for a suitable candidate to finally emerge. Sun had been the only one to actually complete the trial of the Lint Catcher without help since Lavabo himself, even his parents had needed each other to survive that thing. Still, despite all of the reasons Sun would have made an excellent Knight of the Wash, he held only an honorary place in the order, nor would he ever be granted access to the final secrets which gave the Knights their extended lives. It was a firm law of the Kingdom that no immortal could ever be Queen or King, so as to ensure that no tyrant was ever allowed all of eternity to rule.

Still, Sun reflected as he started on what he recognized as one of his fathers’ “comfort shirts”, being apprenticed to The Wash had done him more good than he could say. The Lint Catcher far was more than just a test of basic ability, it was an object lesson in the importance of a job that everyone else ignored. In the land of Mewni, where magic was as much a part of everything as water was a part of life, every sentient species learned that the ambient magic mixed with their own garbage and waste could produce unpredictable and dangerous results. Every society needed a way to deal with this if they hoped to keep order in their own lands. In the days gone by, the Waterfolk and Ponyhead Kingdoms had taken to simply dumping their garbage as far from their borders as they could and trying to forget about it. The result had been the infamous Garbage Beach, a magical eco-disaster that had cost the Pigeon Empire more than half a decade and a hundred lives to clean up and to tech other lands to give up the practice.

The Knights of the Wash were the Butterfly Kingdom’s answer to the problem. While the garbage which could not be repurposed was shipped off to the underworld to be dumped in a pit of magma, clothes which couldn’t simply be destroyed were all brought to the castle laundry. There any dangerous “Execration” as they were called could be dealt with far away from any civilians. The result was that the people were safe from harm, but that they also forgot exactly what the Knights of the Wash did for them and thus they went unrecognized and unappreciated. Those were the first great lessons of being a Knight of the Wash. No job was to too small or insignificant to merit attention and no one was above doing the work themselves no matter how important they were or how dangerous it was. If it had to be done, you did it and you saved your complaining for if you lived. Further lessons, like learning to appreciate quiet and simple work, came after as time wore on and you figured out there was nothing particularly wonderful about fighting for fighting sake. Plus, Suns’ mother had often said, he was probably the only royal in recent history to know how to do his own laundry.

Laughing to himself at the old bad joke, Sun noticed with some appreciation that he was almost done with his pile. If he kept up at this pace, he might have time to study The Spellbook before then next load came down. He could never really find anywhere near enough time, even with his allotted lesson hour. Formal education for the heir stopped when s/he turned fourteen, so any studying had to be fitted in around learning the skills of a knight. Still, maybe if he…

“Your Highness!” a voice called at the top of its owner’s lungs as he slammed through the Laundry’s heavy ekar-wood door open. Sun turned inasmuch startlement at the noise as the shouted call. He reached for the wand on pure reflex, but relaxed before touching where it hung at his back. None of the Execration, no matter their immense strength and angry dispositions, could talk.

The servant standing in the doorway was out of breath and clearly distraught, his eye portraying fear and deep emotional pain as he panted for breath. Sun rose to his feet and moved as quick as he could to see why this man had run all the way down here to find him. Sir Lavabo, who had of course already finished his portion of the load, followed not far behind, but with enough distance to make it clear it was Sun and not he who was the one responding to the call.

“What is it Harwin?” Sun asked in a businesslike manner. Whatever it was clearly had “potential disaster” written all over it and it and the messenger needed to be handled quick as possible before it got any worse.

“Highness”, Harwin wheezed through his panting, “there’s been an accident (gasp) at the Powder Magazine (gasp). Whole thing was destroyed (gasp). Their Majesties were there inspecting and (gasp)…” Sun didn’t need to hear anymore. He knew what a gunpowder explosion could do and that much of it going off in such a confined space, the odds of being in the building as surviving even with magic didn’t bear thinking about.

Sun reached out and grabbed Harwin by the shoulders making him meet his desperate eyes. “Where Are They?!” he said as forcefully as he could manage without being unnecessarily cruel. The force of it was as much to focus the servants mind as get Suns’ point across. It is a well-known truth that people in a panic tend to think rather wildly without the proper training.

“The infirmary Highness” Harwin got out, clearly and without shortness of breath this time. “Master Glaerun is with them now but…” Sun didn’t stay still to listen. He released the servants’ shoulders, causing the man to tumble to the floor in a heap, and turned towards his Ebrithil.

“Go,” said Sir Lavabo, motioning with hands to get a move on.

Sun ran full tilt out the door and up the stairs. Even so it took far too long, but Sun couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. He didn’t even remember that he had wings which could carry him up the stairs nor could he remember later when he had decided to use them anyway and he’d gone hurtling through the halls as if propelled by a hurricane. Near fifteen minutes after Harwin near about broke down the Laundry door, Sun came to a thunderous halt outside the infirmary door. His wings beating the air powerfully, the force of it enough to knock over everything standing in the corridor and every painting and tapestry off the wall.

Sun pulled the door open to find the room cleared of all save three people. Two of them were in beds, the other was standing over them medical kit in hand. Sun immediately recongined the third as Master Glaerun, the royal healer who had attended Suns’ birth all those years ago. Then he had looked surprised but pleased, not he looked warn, drawn and beaten down.

The other two figures in the beds didn’t look familiar at all, Sun noted as he numbly and mechanically walked down the double row of beds towards the healer. Their skin was red and spider-webbed with white scar tissue, their hair and noses were completely gone and they most obviously weren’t breathing. Only their shapes beneath the sheets proclaimed them to be male and female respectively. No one could have guessed that these were two of the most personally powerful monarch’s in the whole world, but Sun knew. He knew the shapes of the faces, recognized the forms he’d know his entire life. He knew these were his parents and, from the look in the healers’ eyes, they were dying.

“There’s nothing more I can do for them,” Glaerun said without really turning around. “I’ve repaired the skin and organs as best I could, but there is simply too much damage. I don’t have the kind of power needed to restore them, no one does. Maybe that goat Lekmet could have done it, but without him…” he trailed off. He didn’t need to say any more. The meaning was clear.

“I’m sorry Your Highness” he said as he rested a hand briefly on the young Princes’ shoulder. He’d already closed up his kit and was even at that moment walking away, discreetly giving Sun a moment alone to say his goodbyes.

Sun didn’t speak for a moment, he just stood their dumbly, at a complete loss for what to do. When he could move again he grabbed a chair from the foot of one of the beds and drew it between his parents. He reached over his shoulder and pulled the wand out from where it rested between his shoulder blades.

_“Heal"_ he intoned with all the strength he could muster. The crystal glowed brightly, but nothing happened. There was no change. Sun tried again but again nothing happened. He tried again and again every spell he’d ever been taught, every variation of the healing arts he could think of, but still nothing happened. Eventually the wand dropped from Suns’ grip to the floor and Sun put his face in his hands, weeping from frustration and sorrow. After a few steadying breaths he lowered his hands at last from his face, enough so he could reach out and take his parents’ hands in his one last time. He felt their utter limpness in his grip and squeezed extra tight to make up for it, tears falling freely down his face.

And that is how Star Butterfly of Mewni and Marco Diaz of Earth died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HfBgwef4gpI
> 
> Comments are more than welcome.


	3. A Lost Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don't alter their views to fit the facts. They alter the facts to fit the views. Which can be uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that needs altering.” — The Doctor (Doctor Who: The Face of Evil)

**30 Days Later**

**A Small Antechamber, Royall Palace, Butterfly Kingdom, Realm of Mewni**

Thirty Days. Except in time of war, wherein firm and decisive leadership was an absolute necessity, the law required the Butterfly Kingdom to observe thirty days of mourning whenever it lost its monarch. The Royal court and heir apparent would dress themselves in black mourning garb and heavy black drapes and curtains would cover the bright colors which normally comprised the Royal castle. So one found Sun Butterfly, not dressed in his preferred attire but in oppressive black robes which had not been designed to accommodate wings. He could retract his wings into his torso, he had inherited that much of his Butterfly parentage. The problem was that the bones and muscles in them did not simply vanish and their tendency to cramp after too long inside was enough to complete Sun’s misery. His second pair of arms at least could be held across his abdomen and chest and so were stretched out and did not to pose the same problem. He almost never used them anyway as it simply took too much concentration to keep four hands coordinated at once.

But the time for mourning was past, and the Kingdom must have a ruler again. And though Sun realized he himself would never truly stop missing his Mom and Dad or get over their passing while he sat there helpless, he had a responsibility to his parent’s memories and his Kingdom. He’d given the eulogy at the funeral and interred them both into their tomb his own self, waded through the endless parade of well-meaning pitiers and the emotional visitation with his Godparents and Grandparents. And now he prepared himself for the coronation which would pass the responsibility of a King onto his own shoulders, a responsibility which he knew beyond a doubt he was not ready for.

Sun had no idea how to handle the Kingdom’s problems, he’d barely even seen all of it. He was uncomfortable being around someone he didn’t know for more than five minutes, let alone any mention of the social responsibilities expected of a Queen or King of Mewni. And then there was this whole “politics” business Sun’s father had complained about often enough. According to him it was much worse on Earth and especially in the nation his father was born in, but apparently it was still enough in Mewni to make him want to strangle people. And that was not even considering the delicate situation between Mewmans and Monsters which even The Rebel Queen herself had never managed to settle. And now it was Sun who’d have to deal with them. His mother’s legacy as a great protector and her legendary love story would remain whole and good in the histories of Mewni, but the responsibility for finishing her work and bring Monsters and Mewmans together would be Sun’s.

Though it’d never comprised a large portion of Sun’s studies, who’d expected at least two or three more decades to learn from his parents, even he had managed to learn some details over the dinner table. Though it was now a recognized fact that the laws and customs of the ream were highly biased, what his father called “Solaria-Crow Laws” whatever that meant, that hadn’t change much of how things were done. Any such laws had been ruthlessly expunged within the first few years of Queen Stars reign, but the public response was clear that it had not been met with universal approval especially among the nobility. Laws had been passed which had banned barring any race of being from any establishment or from walking in any public place, but still Monsters could be shoved into roads by Mewmans or threatened by street-toughs to leave shops or eating houses. And the noble families, though limited in their power to stop the Crown from exercising its ancient and lawful prerogatives, had a great deal of influence over their lands and how laws are implemented. The same ancient charter which give the Crown the right to make law gave the five noble families rights and prerogatives which set them apart from all other subjects, not least of which protected them from Crown oversight or persecution without just legal cause. The result of that being that Queen Star could not simply command the nobles to agree with her or her vision of the future. Indeed one of the few political lessons Star had made sure Sun understood was that the thing that the Noble Families wanted most was a return to the times of Queen Solaria when they and not the Queen had truly ruled Mewni.

Still tomorrow’s troubles must wait until tomorrow to be deal with, today’s issues needed to be seen to now and preparations still had to be made before the Heir Apparent could be presented and affirmed King. What in Corns’ name was Sun supposed to wear? Longstanding tradition maintained that the Crown Princess wear a dress that would become her full regalia of state for as long as she reigned. However, for obvious reasons, nothing such was appropriate for Sun so it was left to him to set tradition for how a Prince was presented as a King to his people. According to Godfather Tom and Godmother Janna an underworld coronation involved the Heir being naked, but it also included the Crown Prince or Princess being doused in liquid fire before being affirmed so that didn’t seem appropriate. The Pigeon Empire too had a male ruler, Emperor Richard Pigeon, but their customs weren’t very easily adapted to a non-feathered species. And since almost none of the various tribes of Monster were monarchical, so Sun was on his own.

In the end, Sun had chosen a set of his armor, specifically designed with him in mind so his more substantial wings wouldn’t be a problem over a simple shirt and a pair of his finest, and thickest, cream colored combat pants. The armor was mostly leather brown and bronze colored dragon steel plates, each piece trimmed in gold leaf but otherwise very plainly designed. Its style of edges and colors had always reminded Sun of Autumn leaves and it, coupled and the royal blue cape hanging down his back would pair well with the new Crown of the King. The Crown been commissioned by Star and Marco on Suns’ fourteenth birthday as the old crown Marco wore as King was fit only for a King Consort, not a reigning head of state.

So there Sun stood in the antechamber just off the Throne Room checking over his appearance in the full length mirror set against one wall. He looked almost like a completely different person in this fancy armor. Even with his two colored face and hair that grew both brown and blonde, the character in the mirror looked older, confident, like someone who know what the Corn he was doing. Something that Sun did not feel at all. The armor was functional, that everyone had insisted on when anything he wore was made, but even a Prince only wore something so fine very occasionally. During such events he normally wore a steel-thistle suit instead of armor and excused himself at the earliest instant. And though armor comprised a normal part of his daily attire, it was almost never anything like this, nothing that couldn’t be covered in mud or worse when dealing with the laundry.

Sun was just adjusting an imagined crooked angle in one of the armor plates when a knock came at the door which led into the palace passages rather than the Throne Room. As there was no announcement following the knock it couldn’t be one of the servants or guards, but who else would know where he was or get past the legion of Royals Guards and Knights. Sun moved as quietly as he could to the door and looked into the hall beyond through the not-hole. What Sun saw through the not-hole would have been strange to almost anyone else, but he knew that the views afforded by such hole were fairly limited, and so was prepared to infer from what he saw. His father had often said that not-holes reminded him of “peep holes” in hotels he’d stayed at on Earth. Sun had never seen one of these in his life any more than he’d actually been to Earth, but given the name he could guess at the function and the thought of his father using one still kinda grossed him out. Why in Corns’ name would anyone put holes in rooms that let you peep at other people?

What appeared to be on the other side of the door was a small candle flame with no candle under it. True disembodied flames weren’t exactly unheard of, but Sun knew at once who must be outside his door and he was grateful that she hadn’t just appeared in the room with him. She’d pulled such pranks on him and his father when he was younger, but had apparently gotten tired of nearly being impaled on a sword several time after the first year of his apprenticeship. Sun opened the door wide and smiled at Hekapoo, current chair of the Magic High Commission and an old friend of his parents. She looked the same as ever, pale lightly-furred skin, curvy figure and thick red hair tied back with a spiky black ribbon. Bangs that covering one of her orange eyes, little fangs, pointed ears like Suns’, and curved yellow horns which surmounted the ever-burning candle flame above her head. She wore the same yellow-orange ball gown, brown high-heeled boots and a black tiara she’d worn on every other occasion Sun had seen her. Sun privately wondered if that outfit was as much a part of her as her horns or fangs, but had never been brave enough to ask nor stupid enough to try and find out. She’d probably answer if he asked her, she’d never been above teasing him or his father like that, but it never seem worth the trouble such a venture would have brought.

“Aunt Hek,” Sun said in as warm a tone as he was capable, using his favorite diminutive of her name. It’d also helped reinforce in a much younger Suns’ mind that she was centuries older than him and well outside any “league” he might have been in. Now such silliness like boyhood crushes were the furthest thing from his mind and he waved her into the room. She entered with a smile of her own and her usual effortless manor, running her eyes up and down Suns’ armored form, seemingly impressed. Sun couldn’t help a little thrill at that, even under the circumstances.

Hekapoo scanned the room, turning in a circle, looking for who-knew-what but when she turned back to Sun she seemed more relaxed.

“You look good Sun”, she said in her easy manner. “That armor looks kinda leafy though.”

“Yeah,” Sun said a bit abashedly. “It’s supposed to match the crown, or at least I’m told it does. But I don’t know, I feel kind of ridiculous in this thing.”

He hadn’t really noticed until he was through talking, but as Sun went on Hekapoo began to act in a very unHekapoo-like manner. She seemed to be looking away, no longer meeting Sun’s eyes and almost curling inward. It was almost like she were…ashamed. Hekapoo had never been ashamed of anything in her life as far as Sun knew, and the stories she’d once told a much younger Sun would certainly give anyone else plenty of reason to be. What could possibly be going on that would change that now?

“Yeah,” Hekapoo said very awkwardly, “we need to talk about that.”

“What about?” Sun said, as he had no idea what she could possibly be talking about. How in Corn’s name could his armor possibly cause Hekapoo such obvious emotional indigestion?

“That crown of yours,” she began, just as uncomfortable as before. “We, the rest of the High Commission and I, don’t think it’s the best idea for you to actually go through with the ceremony today.”

Sun’s expression had grown steadily more confused. What in all Mewni could she possibly mean ‘not go through with the ceremony’? And why had she brought up the Commission when it was really just her and Romulus left? Toffee killed Lekmet, Glossaryck was voted out a year after his Mother became Queen and Omnitraxus had his individual bits a pieced scattered across the continuum by Globgor. Without a Queen or King, the “Commission” was for all intents and purposes dead.

“What do you mean aunt Hek? We can’t postpone this any longer, everyone’s already arrived and they’ll be gathering in the hall soon. For that matter, the Kingdom’s already been without a King for a month, any longer and we’ll have some serious problems on our hands. Furthermore…”

“No Sun.” Hekapoo cut him off. She didn’t sound happy about it, but she kept going in a rush. “I don’t mean postponing the coronation. I trying to say you shouldn’t become King.”

For a few seconds Sun just stood there, struck completely dumb. Then, for the first time in his life, he turned a glare on his honorary aunt.

“Explain. Now!” He said, not actually raising his voice but ensuring in his tone and punctuation that the words carried as much anger and weight as possible. Hekapoo drew a deep breath and started talking fast, knowing she had to get this all out before Sun’s became too angry to listen.

“Sun, there’s never been a King before, not without a Queen anyway. The way things are going, the suspicions people have, we’re not sure that the realm at large is…ready for that to change. They loved your mother and they respected your father, but they already tried to force a lot of change on them in what is honestly a very short time. With the fall of the Pony Heads and all the differences in the laws telling people, especially The families, what they can and can’t do, a man as King on his own might be one change too many.”

“Who Cares?” Sun burst in, cutting off any further explanation. “What does any of that matter? There aren’t any full blooded Butterfly’s other than me left in the cosmos unless you want to try waking up Eclipsa again, and you and I both know it has to be a Butterfly on the throne.”

An awkward moment passed between the two. Hekapoo stood and blinked once very slowly. “So, Star told you about that.”

“Yeah, she did.” Sun returned, still clearly angry and confused.

“Well,” Hekapoo started again, “even if you didn’t know it wouldn’t matter. I’m not suggesting you abdicate your position, I’m just saying that there are a few steps you could consider to try an alleviate tensions.”

“Like what?” Sun asked. Only his respect for Hekapoo was keeping him listening to this any more of what was sounding more and more like blatant sexist prejudice.

 Hekapoo started again in a rush, hoping against hope this Prince of hers wouldn’t explode as badly as it seemed likely he would. “Cornwall has a daughter about your age. Take him aside before the ceremony and talk with him about taking her as a wife. Then announce your engagement to the people and defer your investments until after the wedding. Then you could both be crowned and-.

“WHAT!” Sun roared after finally finding his voice again. His jaw had been steadily dropping open as Hekapoo rolled out this cockamamie notion of hers and now he could see where she was going with this talk of change and worries. And he’d officially reached the end of his patience with this nonsense talk he’d put up with all his life. It took every ounce of his restraint not to fly off the handle completely and continue screaming at his onetime teacher and friend.

“You want me to engage myself to a total stranger, give up all my prerogatives as heir to the throne, and just be a King Consort to a convenient political ally all so I can pander to some out of date notion of gender roles?! Are you out of your mind?! I’m not going to kowtow to anyone just because they don’t like what I was born and I’m not going to insult my mother’s memory by knuckling under to some idiotic concept of the so-called ‘way things ought to be’.”

“Now listen brat-!” Hekapoo tried to override him, angrier than Sun had ever seen her, angrier than even Marco had seen her when he’d "forgotten" to mention Star was tearing holes in the fabric of the universe. Sun however, was having none of it.

“NO!” he thundered. He’d never said anything of the sort to anyone in his life, much less someone he loved like family, but this was further than Sun had ever been pushed and he found it was further than he was willing to put up with from anyone. “I am done listening! If this is all you came here to say you can leave now. I’m going through with this as law and custom dictate. You will stay out of it from here on in! ”

And with that Sun stormed out of the room, not bothering to look back at Hekapoo.

_Powers I hope he doesn’t get himself killed_ , Hekapoo thought to herself. _I’d much rather he hate me for this than to have to watch a kid like him die from politics. Or watch_ _Aeldra have to get involved again._

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**(Mostly) The Royal Throne Room, Butterfly Palace, Butterfly Kingdom, Realm of Mewni**

            A fanfare played and the crowd hushed and turned towards the great double doors set into the far wall. “The Crown Prince Approaches” those horns seemed to say. “It is time, at long last, time for the land to have a ruler again.” The doors swung wide and the fanfare played once more. Prince Sun Butterfly stood there, in all his courtly regalia and he did strike an impressive figure even if he didn’t think so. He was flanked on either side by two members of the royal guard but they turned towards their charge and saluted him as they took up positions on either side of the door frame. As was tradition, Sun would make the trip up to the dais the alone.

The throne room was done up in great splendor, even grander than it had been when Sun had received the Wand when he turned fourteen. All the walls were hung with tapestries with the Mewni coat of arms, the long pail blue carpet had been run out from one end of the hall to the other. The thrones were gone, as they had been since Star and Marco died and the dais stood empty except for a simple wooden podium upon which rested the Book of Spells. It was only somewhat like the one which had been destroyed by Toffee years ago. It had regenerated slowly over time after Glossaryck was revived by Star and like the being it was tied to, it still had much missing. Still it was a holy royal artifact and every new Queen, or King in this case, was coronated with it. Sun would kneel before it, a benediction would be spoken, and then Sun would pledge himself to the Kingdom and its people. Then, if the ceremony was accepted by the magic of the land itself, the dais would change and a brand new throne would appear to match the Monarch. A similar thing happened if the Monarch married during their reign and a new throne would appear for the King Consort, or Queen Consort when Sun eventually to a wife of his own. Of more immediate importance to Sun was the guest list. The only people allowed to actually attend the coronation or a royal wedding with nobility, knights, or those who were issued direct invitations by royals, knights or nobles. None of Sun’s extended family could be there, his Godparents and Grandparents being non-citizens and so could not attend. Still, as was always the case, the hall was packed. Either side of the throne room was crowded with eager spectators, all of them dressed in their finest and watching as their first ever Prince walk the path so many Princesses had walked before.

However, there were five in attendance who Sun sought out in particular, just to note where they stood and how they looked on him. One by one he picked them out, the current heads of the five noble families of the Butterfly Kingdom. There was Lord Orica of Rhodes, Lady Namsburry of Rihivers, Lord Burroughs of Mayhew, Lady Garrciso of Six Hills and finally Lord Papillion of Cornwall. None of them stood together, indeed each was surrounded by his or her own extended family as well as those handpicked favorites, but they were of a set. All of them carefully guarding their expressions, but all of them with hard disapproval in their eyes. They knew, and Sun knew, that they would most likely not get along particularly well. Lord Cornwall in particular had been known to dislike his mother’s policies and the two had butted heads on more than one occasions. Inadvertently, Sun picked out Cornwall’s daughter, the one Hekapoo had mentioned. She was standing, sullen next to her father, her corn silk hair and yellow dress only highlighting her stick-like features and grumpy expression. They’d met a few times growing up and Sun had always thought her a little slow. She was pretty he enough he supposed, but he’d never been particularly attracted. _Maybe it’s the hair_ , Sun thought to himself and had to fight not to smile. _Maybe it’s ‘cause Mom had it too, but we’ve never really been that into blonds have we?_

It helped to make light of it Sun had found, remembering things about his parents that almost made him laugh. Star had always been trying to do that, even if her jokes were truly awful most of the time. Marco only really got any funnier when he interacted with his wife. Most kids would have been grossed out when their Mom and Dad showed that they loved each other, and there had been more than a few times when he’d walked in on a very private moment between them. But when they weren’t demonstrating it in bed (or shower, family room, closet, throne room, etc.) Sun actually liked to see it. They demonstrated their love through their teamwork, their understanding of one another. Nobody knew Star Butterfly like his Dad, and nobody knew Marco Diaz like his Mom, and they made sure to remind each other every day.

Before Sun knew it, he was standing at the bottom of the dais. As he put one foot on the first step a quire began to sing the benediction. With each step Sun grew less and less aware of the crowd, allowing everything but the song and the book to fade away. All that mattered was them at the moment, everything came down to him and what that book represented. After what seemed much longer than it actually was, Sun reached the podium. As he’d practiced a million times, he knelt (not the easiest thing to do when one is in armor) and bowed his head in respect and began the oath he had been taught as early as he could remember.

“I pledge-“

“STOP!” cried a voice from the audience. There was a gasp from the audience as a figure stepped forward. Sun rose and turned to face this interruption. As far as he knew no one had ever interrupted a royal coronation in all of history except for invasions.

The figure standing in the hall was easily recognizable. No one else wore a battle steel cap and had two ponytails of lavender hair on either side of her head. It was Mina Loveberry, an immortal knight of the Butterfly Kingdom. Once she had been the royal monster hunter and the last of the ancient knightly order that had born that name. That order was gone now, all except for her, and had been for over a century. Both post and order had been officially abolished by Star early in her reign, though Mina was still entitled to high esteem as a senior knight and immortal. She and Star had had more than their share of run-ins over the years and they hadn’t always been on the same side. Still, Sun’s contact with the supposed lunatic over his life was limited so why she was interrupting the most important ceremony of his life was beyond him.

“What is the meaning of this Sir Mina?!” Sun asked in his most authoritative voice. Best to project the right image now he figured.

“I do not recognize this _man’s_ right to be king.” Mina said, not addressing Sun but the room at large. “Look at him,” she went on gesturing at Sun, “He is clearly not one of us. He’s a mutation, a failure in production. No man has ever been our ruler and no man ever should be. A lord sure, a consort or advisor it is and should be so. But the throne of this kingdom was made for women only and only a woman can ever truly reign from it.”

“How Dare You!” Sun thundered, his temper flaring. “You come here on this of all day to-”

“I agree with Sir Mina” a smooth and calm voice cut across Sun’s anger. It belonged to Lord Cornwall as he stepped forward from his place in the crowd. He wasn’t tall nor was he short. His hair was blond as his daughters’, with pale skin and large mud-brown eyes. He was well dressed, his palest pink thistle silk suit with understated embroidery was both the height of taste and fashion and demonstrated his great wealth as did the jewels on his fingers and around his neck. His most distinctive feature however were the perfectly trimmed pair of waxed mustachios which reminded Sun of those times his mother would get butter smeared on her upper lip. His father, and later he, would tease her about it until she whipped (of more often licked) it off. The memory nearly brought a smile to Sun’s face and did wonders to keep his once-again rising temper in check.

“Sir Mina raises a good point.” Cornwall went on. “I myself would never dare to think myself worthy of being king, I am simply not meant to be any more than I am. But now I come to think on it, the point is not that I am personally unworthy, it is that I no man is. We’ve never had a King before and now that the question and alternative is before us I don’t see why we should. No man was ever deemed worthy before today. If I, with all my years of dedication to the people of this realm and Mewmanity in general, an unworthy, how could think half-breed boy be more so?”

Sun stood there looking at the two of them, unable to see what they could possibly think they were doing. People had been executed for less than this. How could they possibly think they could get away with this in a room full of Royal Guards and knights all sworn to loyalty to the throne and the Butterfly family? Still, a murmur went through the crowd as his little speech it almost sounded like agreement to Sun’s ears. It seemed that the five families were making their play after all. It would have to be dealt with and dealt with quickly or the land might fracture and civil war break out for the first time in all Mewman history.

“I challenge the right of Sun Butterfly to be King and would take that right from him in single combat,” Mina said as if it were a formal and legal challenge.

“I second your challenge Sir Mina,” said Cornwall still smooth as thistle-silk and with a nasty smile on his mustachioed face.

“This is ridiculous!” Sun said both angry and exasperated with all of this meaningless show. He was Crown Prince after all and he’d put a stop to this right here and now. “I’ll not hear any more of this treasonous nonsense! Guards, arrest these people!”

He gestured in their direction and the guards should have rushed forward, but they didn’t move. Their eyes didn’t turn from what they were looking at, and it wasn’t Mina or Cornwall. It was him. They’d been staring at him ever since he entered the throne room. Hekapoo’s words from earlier rang in his ears as he realized they agreed with what Mina and Cornwall were saying too and they were willing to cast aside their oaths for it. Every knight in that room was. Everyone in that room was. Sun had been betrayed and now he was all alone.

“Ah,” Sun said in a very quiet, almost sad voice. “I see now.” And very slowly he began to reach for his wand.

“See,” Mina shouted, jumping on her chance. “He won’t even fight for himself, calling others to do it for him. He’s a coward!” She grinned as she turned to face Sun dead on, striding forward to close in on her intended victim, putting a hand on her sword. “Now no more talk or hiding behind anyone else. Just you and me.”

And then she aimed a mighty kick right between Sun’s legs, clearly intending to disable him in one blow. Martially speaking it was a perfectly executed move. Powerful, well-aimed and almost graceful in a sort of way. Strategically however, it was the most obvious point of attack on any man and so one which could be, and had been, prepared for in advance. Which is why, when the kick made contact, it was Mina and not Sun who cried out and collapsed in pain as her toes crushed themselves against the three inch, magically reinforced, steel cup which had long since been incorporated into all of Sun’s pants.

Sun’s battle instincts were going full force by this point so he didn’t stop to watch Mina over-balance hopping on one foot and falling to the floor. His attention had already moved to the knights as the next primary threats. He saw them temporarily unprepared as they’d expected Mina’s kick to put him “down for the count” as his father used to say. Their grips weren’t firm on their weapons as they would have been if they were prepared to rush forward, but it wouldn’t take them long to change that. Any advantage that might have given Sun wouldn’t change the outcome of any fight he might start here. Strong and Sun was there were simply too many of them for him to take on alone. These weren’t Execrations or some unarmed mob, these were fully trained knights of the realm, knights trained in the combat techniques of two realms and Star’s demand that they be fit guardians even against her. While Sun might have been a match against one or two or even three wrapped in armor as he was, all of them at once was too much.

All this was covered in the split second it took Sun to finish pulling his wand into his hands and the Knights grips to just start to tighten on their weapons. He would only get one shot at this, so it had to be good. Sun immediately pointed the crystal tips of his wand not at the knights but at the base of his jaw and prepared to cast.

“ ** _FORTISSIMOOOOOOOOO!”_**

The boom of that one word went on and on as everyone in that hall had their august personages flung backwards to fall on their asses. The knights slammed into the walls and Mina went flying and spinning down the aisle.

The spell was a crude one, boosting the power of the voice until it became a shockwave. Strong but ultimately not feasible for most combat situations. It could not discriminate between friend and foe which made it as much a hindrance as a help on the battle field, and though it was disruptive, the shockwave was only powerful enough to break glass rather than enemies. This was one of the rare instances Sun had ever used it in anything other than practice, but it was also one of the rare instances where it was practical to use it. There were no allies to be found in this hall and its side effect of breaking glass was one of the reasons Sun had chosen it.

Before the knights or Mina could pick themselves up off the floor, Sun turned and snatched the Book of Spells off of the podium. He spread his wings, shredding off his cape and launching himself into the air, soaring out the window. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to risk that trick as doing so would have meant breaking the glass and cutting himself to pieces as the shards as they came down around him. In this case, by some miraculous turn of events, the glass which had occupied those windows had already been blown out. After clearing the stone frame with a corkscrew twist, he flapped his wings hard and angled himself towards the Northeast and hopefully into The Forest of Certain Death. If he could manage to get beyond Mewni borders and avoid crossing into Johanson lands he might just find a place to hide himself.

“AFTER HIM!”

Sun heard the bellow from behind and below him, but he wasn’t quite sure who it was. It might have been Mina or Cornwall, but it was impossible to tell for sure. Whoever it was, it meant Mina herself wouldn’t be coming after him as well as the knights. There’s no way she’d stop to give orders if she was going to do it herself and after this it was clear she’d never take orders from somebody else. While he was almost certainly faster than her (Sun had been able to out fly his mother with his larger, stronger wings) he absolutely wasn’t stronger, especially if she’d assumed that battle form of hers.

Only a select number of knights had flight tech in their armor, so that would thin out Sun’s pursuers as well. The point here was not fighting but getting as far away as fast as he could. Still, he could get off at least one good pot-shot as they started after him. So Sun did a barrel role to end up on his back, quickly also strapping The Spellbook to his chest with the thin gold chain he used to secure his wand to his back. His wings let him keep gliding rather than plummeting since they couldn’t really flap in this position. The Knights who could fly, as expected, were all assuming the fastest way to catch up would be to use the same window he did and so were all coming up out of that window frame. Sun immediately pointed his wand towards the knot of armored carapaces coming through and barked a single word.

_“Incenjo!”_

Flames exploded in that stone frame that even at this far distance Sun could hear the blast quite clearly. Over a dozen bulky shapes, charred black rather than shiny now, fell rather than flew out and tumbled to the ground behind the stone walls or still inside the Throne Room. There were still others coming behind them only slightly singed and protected from the heat by their undamaged armor, so Sun righted himself in the air and flapped hard to gain distance and altitude.

The realm of Mewni rushed by underneath and the roar of rushing wind was all Sun could hear as he flew faster than he ever had before. He’d had battle flight and racing training of course, but this sort of thing was beyond anything he’d ever been through. It seemed that being chased by half the royal guard and every other able-bodied knight in the kingdom was even better motivation than anything he’d previously tried. He’d have to recommend it to whoever he had train his own children, assuming he lived long enough to have any. It took only fifteen minutes of furious wing pumping before he reached the first groves of trees that heralded the forest was near.

Suddenly, a hissing noise came by and something shiny whizzed past his head. Sun dared a quick glance back over his shoulder and saw the knights coming up behind them, and if that shiny thing was what he thought they were armed for aerial combat. _Spike-throwers_ , Sun thought to himself, which probably meant then had arbalests too. Battle steel bolts, whether in spike or arrow-head shape were dangerous even to a fully armored foe, the spikes even more so since they could be loaded with deadly poisons to ensure they killed.

_Alright_ , Sun thought, _don’t be afraid. We’ve been trained for this._ Though bean bag hurlers were hardly the same as spike-throwers.

It’s a well-known fact that dodging is a lot easier to do in the air than it was on the ground or even in water provided you had the mobility to take advantage of the open space. More shots were fired and steel spikes and a few arrows fell around Sun as he swerved and spiraled, presenting a target which kept changing shape as well as moving, the hardest kind to hit unless it was coming right at you. Most of the shots simply missed or pinged off his armor, not doing any real damage. It quickly became clear they were aiming at his wings, probably hoping to ground him and settle the business with proper combat which they were the undisputed masters of.

Still, even out of their element, the knights were very good shots and the law of probabilities said they had to get lucky at some point. One of the spikes eventually found Sun, hitting him in the back, just below the wing joint. Sun let out a cry of pain at the impact. He dipped and fluttered in the air for a moment before righting himself and pressing forward. He was lucky that it didn’t seem this spike was poisoned, but its’ placement in his back slowed Sun’s flight. The pain was great, but manageable for now. It would require seeing to later, but now Sun couldn’t risk even trying to pull it out any more than he could turn and fight his pursuers. In an air battle he had the advantage, but they had both numbers and range on their side which was too great for his magic to overcome without getting him killed in the process.

But it seemed that choice was being taken out of his hands. One knight, faster or braver than her fellows, was pulling ahead of the squadron and Sun could hear her approach over even the rushing wind. He waited until the last second and then rolled again, coming up wand first facing a helmeted but clearly startled knight. Sun pointed his wand down his own length again, this time only a single knight to deal with. He reached with the curled index finger of his right hand and touched it to the end of the wand where horn ended and crystal began. He drew that single finger down the length as if pulling back the string of a crossbow.

_“Arrow Sparrow”_ Sun chanted and the crystals glimmered to life. Above the wand there appeared what looked vaguely like a wooden arrow though much bigger than would ever be used by any archer or arbalesteer. The head was larger and thicker than any arrow should be designed with. It was also gnarled and twisted and it had the polished look of fine wooden furniture. If one were to look at it from the business end down, as the knight currently was, one would have been forgiven for thinking it looked somewhat like a bird or maybe a dragon.

This particular knight didn’t have the time to draw any such detailed conclusions as no sooner did Sun uncurl his finger than the arrow shot forward and punched clean through her, armor and all. Blood sprayed out her back where the arrow had punched out the other side and she fell. Sun didn’t focus on the fact that he’d killed another sentient for the first time in his life, as he attempted to right himself in midair before any of her comrades got any bright ideas about following her example.  He knew he’d probably obsess about it later, but for now the battle calm he’d worked to perfect was going full force. Unfortunately, the turning motion he employed to role while flying seemed to exacerbate his injured back and as he attempted it again something tore and one wing crumpled.

Sun’s glide turned into a tumble through the air, his one open wing turning him so that he went back under the passing knights, whose shots were landing squarely on his armor now, doing real damage to the pieces they hit. Sun meanwhile couldn’t even move to try and save himself as he plummeted toward the thick tree canopy below. A distant, unconcerned corner of his mind wondered why he hadn’t noticed how bad his back really was and noted that entire region of his person was now more cold than anything else. It might have been, that same voice seemed to say, that he might have been wrong about that spike not being poisoned.

The arrows and spikes finally seemed to stop as Sun crashed through the trees. His mind seemed to be getting fuzzier and fuzzier as he fell, he couldn’t even feel his other wing being scratched and his armor rent by the thick tree limbs he plowed into them back first. The last thought on his mind before he passed out was that he thought he heard rushing water. Then everything went blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Hopefully the length and the fact that I should have a new chapter ready within a week will make up for it.


	4. I Know A Place Where The Wild Thyme Grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I feel I’m very sane about how crazy I am.” – Carrie Fisher

**Ruined Manor Cave & Surrounding Area, Forest of Certain Death, Realm of Mewni**

Ryūmei Runeskalde woke, and was immediately irritated because it was still light out. She hated the necessity of this whole sleep by day and study by night concept, but she understood why it was necessary. Dragons, after all, weren’t particularly welcome in this land anymore.

It was a hard lesson for most hatchlings, though Ryūmei was nearly 20 years out of her shell, that the world that had given birth to Dragon kind was no longer their home. They’d been driven from it millennia ago by monsters and the nightmare that ruled them, the so-called queen Solaria the Cruel. The Dragon Lands had been constructed as a new home for their kind to escape to, safe from anyone or anything more dangerous than themselves. They’d been lucky, at least they’d gotten away. The Leviathans, Cyclopies, Hydras, Giants and Kaiju had been less fortunate. If any still lived they were unknown to Dragon kind which, after nearly two millennia of searching for any other survivors, seemed unlikely.

The ruins of the old Dragon civilizations still existed however, in the thick forests that had grown up in the last two thousand years. Now students, like Ryūmei herself, came to study the past and learn from what came before as is necessary for any society to progress. However, for the safety of all concerned, all who did chose to study this field were under strict admonition not to allow themselves to be seen by any sentient thing. Even so many years and generations after Solaria’s death, the danger posed by her people still remained. Hence Ryūmei’s orders to sleep by day and study by night.

But Ryūmei was naturally a daylight creature, as evidenced by her white fur and gold horns. Such was the natural way of things, those of darker furs rose and slept with the moon while the lighter furs were meant to be up with the sun. Sentient they might be, but natural instinct like that wasn’t so easily set aside. So though she’d tried, bedding down coiled around the thickest stalagmite, as Dragons have always slept, in the deepest part of the old manor cave, she’d woken from her sleep before the day had even reached noon.

Still, she was up now and there was no sense in lazing about when there was a late breakfast to be found somewhere in the wood and perhaps even something to occupy her until she could get back to work. So Ryūmei unwound herself from her stalagmite, stretched her long, sinuous body in a series of arcs all down her person, and slithered lazily through the main passage of the manor cave.

It’d been a fine cave system once upon a time. So many centuries later and it still provided a perfect home for those who came to find it. Any carvings or ornamentations had long since been worn away by the passing eons, but there were still plenty of artifacts to be found in this cave. And then there were the other ways aspiring archeologists knew to get answers from faded marks on rock. Add in the other caves that filled this former township…well she certainly wouldn’t be lacking for work any night soon, Ryūmei thought to herself. Hidden as is was by thick vines and heavy plant growth, which the university maestros had been very clear she was to disturb as little as possible, no one would think this place had ever been inhabited. True this hadn’t been one of the major city mountains, those had all been reduced to rubble during the war. But several dozen families had called this place home, a fair sized town for a dragon community back then. Nowadays such tiny steadholts were few and far between, usually full of traditionalists longing for the glory days of the Draconic people.

Right now however, Ryūmei was thinking more of the river trout she might be able to catch for her breakfast rather than ancient Dragon cultures and how they compared to home. He mouth began to water at her perspective meal as she emerged from her cave into the sun. She tilted her head up to its rays on pure instinct, closing her eyes and shaking out her fur before continuing on into what had been the central causeway. Maybe she’d even find a hart if she was lucky, and add in some of those apples from that old orchard and the wild thyme and rosemary scattered about the place. Ryūmei’d already enjoyed quite a few meals from game found here. Now if only she could…

_*Crash*_

_*Crunch*_

_*Snap*_

_*Thud*_

_*Splash*_

Ryūmei whipped her head and neck completely around, towards the cacophonous noise coming from the woods. It sounded almost like a young Dragon trying to learn to fly and subsequently failing and crashing into somebody’s home. Still, as far as she knew, and the senate kept a very close eye on who could and could not travel the skyways, she was the only Dragon in this area and nothing else expect maybe a Roq could cause such a clamor. Not in this part of the world anyway.

Regardless of what it was, something had just come crashing down through the trees barely a furlong from where she was living and working. If it was something sentient, she could be in real trouble. She quickly ran through a mental checklist, looking of anything she might have done even slightly wrong. If someone, particularly one of the so-called “Mewmans”, had figured out she was here and they started up a hue and cry about Dragons in the forest, it could raise and almighty uproar. The current Mewman queen, whoever she was, would begin probing the beyond for signs of Dragon kinds’ continued existence. She, Ryūmei, would be called in for questioning, possibly loose her place at the academy. Worse, she might be blamed for this whole mess. A student who’d grown careless with her wards and up in the middle of the day no less. She’d be exiled for sure if that happened, and then where would she go?

The best thing for her to do was to go back inside right now. If she used the camouflage spell and hid in the very back of the cave, whoever had just come crashing down through those trees might, just might, be convinced there was no one here. The he might go away long enough for her to open a lane back home and report this before some else landed in it like she had.

But what if this was just an accident? What if someone or something was hurt?

There was that little voice again. It’d caused Ryūmei more than a few problems over the years, telling her to stick her snout where it didn’t belong. Like the time she’d gotten the bright idea to pull a squirming sack out of a well only to find a giant lamprey inside. She’d nearly lost an eye or an ear to that little adventure. If she were looking to get into trouble, that’d be the voice to listen to and after all this time Ryūmei knew better than to listen.

The trouble was that, no matter what she might know, she’d never been able to resist what that small, still voice at the back of her head told her to do.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done_ , Ryūmei thought to herself, not for the first time since slithering off into the woods. She’d proceeded as cautiously and slowly as she could, making only as much noise as a breath of wind might, her concave ears straining for any signs of movement from where she was sure she’d heard the thing crash down. Her sense of smell too she’d kept on alert, but that wasn’t reporting much out of the ordinary. That wasn’t a very comforting sign though. As she didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary either, that led her to think that it might just have been a meteorite or a rock falling through a freak portal. If that’d been the case however, there almost certainly would have been a fire or at least some smoke which her sensitive nostrils would have been able to pick up. But there wasn’t any, and since there weren’t any convenient cliffs where an unsteady boulder might have fallen off near where the sound had come from, that lead Ryūmei to the conclusion that the noise must have been made by a living thing.

So Ryūmei pressed on, snaking her way along the pebbly river bank one meter at a time, her ever camouflage spell employed to give her as much of a head start as possible if it turned out she should have run. After nearly a half hour of slow, near silent progress and not seeing a thing out of the ordinary, Ryūmei stuck her head around a bend in the river and saw, lying half in half out of the water, what had to be the oddest looking animal she’d ever seen in her life. It was splayed out under a very suspiciously it-shaped hole in the tree canopy and it wasn’t moving. Curious, now that she’d been assured she was in no immediate danger, Ryūmei moved in for a closer look at her new discovery.

It was a very strange looking whatever-it-was. It was small, furless except for a patch of downy fluff growing from the top of its head. It had eight limbs, two which were obviously legs with the feet common to most mammal species. It was wearing a metal boot on one foot while the other had a ring of smoking scrap iron around the bared ankle. It had two pairs of orangutan-like arms, but shorter and virtually hairless and one pair was much slimmer than the other. Strangest of all though, it also had a pair of giant bats’ wings which were splayed out under it, one of which was clearly broken, crumpled like it was. What of its bare skin Ryūmei could see reminded her of swirled ice-cream, something she’d never even heard of on any living creature. Fur could have patterns, but bare skin was almost universally one color under the fur. The creatures’ fur was two colors as well, dark brown close to the head but changing to buttercup yellow about half way along each lock.

Everything it was wearing was battered and broken, except for what looked like a very strangely made box with a broken chain connecting it to the body. But it was still breathing and clutching one thing in its hand which seemed relatively intact, so at least it was still alive. Though how it could have survived a fall like that was beyond Ryūmei. The thing it held looked like outsized Blackbuck horn with blue and gold crystals sprouting from the base, the tip still held slackly in the things’ hand. Ryūmei lowered her snout to the horn to sniff at it cautiously, trying to tell by the scent what kind of animal it belonged to. Immediately she pulled her head back in startlement, as the unmistakable scent and feel of powerful and alien magix assailed her senses. Never had she felt of such a kind of power before, and seeing as her Dam and Sire were both Master Mage Artisans that was saying quite a bit.

The fact that it was wearing shaped metal and cloth had been a pretty good indicator, but the clearly highly magical tool it carried was all the evidence Ryūmei needed. This thing, whatever it was, was sentient and so Ryūmei should leave it be. But it was also clearly hurt, it wasn’t moving and it’d just taken a fall of at least twenty furlongs. If she left it there it’d probably die. And pretty soon to, as its’ breading had gone from regular to erratic. Gingerly, careful to avoid that weird horn and the box on its’ chest, Ryūmei rolled it onto its side, hoping that would clear the air ways like it did for most simians, or so she’d heard. Immediately she smelled something that didn’t belong and sure enough she found something out of place on, or that in, its’ back. It looked like a metal thorn and it absolutely reeked of poison. Hellebore if she wasn’t mistake, but never mind. The thing would have to go and, given the extent of the other injuries it probably had, there was only one way this thing, whatever it was, would be getting up and walking away any time soon. She’d have to use her magic.

That was a risky proposition as she wasn’t a trained healer and if anything was seriously wrong she could end up doing more harm than good. But even if this worked to perfection, there was still the fallout to consider. If Ryūmei used a spell to help heal a sentient, which every bit of evidence seemed to indicate this was, she’d be violating every single safety regulation she’d been given. She’d already skirted dangerously close to what might be acceptable or not. If she use magic she’d be meddling in the affairs of beings she had no right to tamper with and by all rights should not even have been looking for in the first place.

Still, it’d die. She wouldn’t have to explain anything if it did, but she’d know. All her life, Ryūmei would know she’d done nothing and saved her own pelt rather than heal someone who needed her help. So, gently as she could, Ryūmei picked up the body in her jaws, careful not to bite down or touch it with her tongue. Then, slowly so as not to jostle her burden, she turned herself about and slid back towards her chosen nest where she could work in safer conditions for the both of them.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Once back at her cave, Ryūmei laid the body gently on what had been a garden terrace now overgrown with wildflowers. The plant life would add to the power of the spell, but now she must turn to the working of the spell itself. Ryūmei was not a healer, and though she know more magic than most of her peers, she was without her rings and her expertise lay more in perceptions with more minor talents in combat magic. Healing was a totally different branch all together, one which she was only incompletely versed in. Mix that with the fact that she couldn’t even begin to guess what its biology or internal physiology were like, and this could all go squid-shaped in a hurry if she had to do a delicate healing.

Still, given her own level of knowledge, the best course of action would probably be to use a general healing spell and hope for the best. She’d have to get the metal bits out of the way though, expect for that thorn in its back. If skin and muscle were meant to be where any sharp or torn metal was it could get messy. That would take some careful manipulation and she’d have to do it quick and without causing any more hurt than the thing had already been through.

Carefully, with tongue and front teeth only, Ryūmei tore through the metal bits and slid them to the ground and away from her patient. She’d ripped some of the cloth underneath, but at least she hadn’t gotten any of the skin. The cloth was good where it was as it helped to staunch the bleeding, so there was no need to remove that too. Now came the hard part though, working a healing spell for the first time at real need.

Ryūmei took a breath for courage, and raised her head high over the body, drawing as much mist as she could into her mouth, focusing her will on everything she knew about healing magix.

“ _Heal,”_ she breathed and the pinkish mist spilled from her jaws, enveloping her the body below her. Immediately upon contact, the mist began to twist and spin, forming almost appendages which seemed to feel over the body they covered. Then the creature was picked up off the ground until it was hanging upright half way between Ryūmei’s head and the flower bed below, suspended in midair. The metal thorn fell out and to the ground, the smell of hellebore stronger for a second then fainter until Ryūmei could barely sense it in the very back of her nostrils. Then the healing truly seemed to work in earnest. Ryūmei pored even more mana into her spell, watching as a crumpled wing straightened and skin and muscle knit back together again.

At last the spell ran its course and the creature’s body was gently deposited back of the flower bed, the pinkish mist dissipating in the light breeze till nothing of it remained.  Ryūmei slumped to the ground, breathing heavily. It’d been a long time since a spell had tired her out like that. Still, she might be tired but she’d done it. She raised the fan like end of her tail and flicked the iron thorn as far away as she could, as if to say “ha, you couldn’t take this one from me”.

She hoped it’d worked anyway. Things looked alright from the surface. The skin was whole, no bones were broken and the creature’s breathing seemed to have evened out. Still it wasn’t waking up or moving and that worried Ryūmei. If it was fully healed, wouldn’t it have woken up by now? What if the spell hadn’t gotten the poison completely out? Still, she’d done quite literally all she could, now it would be best to move out of the open. Like this, it wounded and her weakened, either one of them could very easily get sick, something she could do absolutely nothing about.

So Ryūmei carefully slipped the fan of her tail under the sleeping body and lifted it up off the ground as she turned back towards the mouth of her cave. It seemed she’d have to make due with toadstools for breakfast again. Not that she had anything against toadstools, but that was what she had last night and she was getting rather sick of toasted toadstool.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sun felt like he was drowning, but without running out of air if that made any sense. Like he was underwater and couldn’t move or feel much of anything and his whole world was just the awareness of pressure all around him. It was just like when he’d dive to the bottom of the rinse pool during his first swimming training with his Ebrithil, but without feeling the wetness of the water, just the weight of it all around him.

It was maddening not to be able to move his arms or legs or wings or even feel where they were or even open his eyes. He was out of control and stuck wherever it was he’d landed himself.

Suddenly, it seemed the pressure was lessoning about him. He still couldn’t move or open his eyes, but the pressure was fading and his sense of touch began reporting to his mind once more. His limbs all appeared to be attached and in good order, which was odd considering the last thing he remembered was being chased by Butterfly knights, crashing through thirty odd tree limbs, and falling into a river.

Still, Sun felt fine. Good even. His second pair of arms and his wings were still out, but they always seemed to do that when he was asleep. Now he was waking up they begin to curl themselves in on his person. Bit by bit they’d fold back under his skin and stay put unless he needed them or he fell asleep again.

Another few seconds ticked by and, though he still couldn’t open his eyes, Sun’s awareness moved out from his own body to his surroundings and, more directly, what he was lying on. It reminded him of the time he’d tried sleeping on a fur-skin rug in front of the fire one Stump Day eve when he was about eight. It was soft to the touch but the stone underneath was hard and unyielding. This was like that, soft to touch but implacably hard underneath, but different too. For one thing, he wasn’t flat on a floor, he was leaning up against the something, and it wasn’t flat, it was curved. And it was warm too, not cold like the stone under the rug had been. He’d had to drag that to the fireplace before he’d been warm enough to sleep on. His ears were working now, but he didn’t hear any fire, so why was it so warm under the fur?

Apparently, wherever he was, he wasn’t alone though. As his wits slowly gathered about him, Sun felt something pressing against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. He couldn’t make out many details of what had been touching him, but it didn’t feel like a hand. He didn’t dwell on it long though as a few drops of water landed on his lips and he felt something large hovering near to his face. His tongue moved heavily to touch the drops and then more quickly to lap them up. He hadn’t realized it till now, but he was simply dying of thirst and now he opened his lips and mouth as much as he could, hoping whoever it was would give him more.

There were no words, but a thin trickle of water poured down into his mouth. Apparently whoever this was knew better than to give a thirsty man too much at once lest he choke, so the stream was limited. Just enough for Sun to swallow a bit at a time without undue difficulty.

After about a minute the trickle stopped and Sun let out a sigh, fully sated and feeling much better. Some of the water had splashed onto his face, but that was alright and the cold and wet on his skin actually felt pretty good in his still numb state.

“Thank you” Sun said, his voice more like a gasp or a sigh than actual speech. The water had been exactly what he’d needed. This must be some experienced healer as none other could have saved him if what he remembered was what happened. The poison used in Butterfly spike throwers was no joke, and to get it out without killing the patient was no mean feat.

Feeling he owed this stranger some effort to show thanks, and hoping he could actually do it, Sun opened his eyes. The world swam in his vision for a moment, filled largely with green. That was odd Sun though as every other sense told him he was most likely in a cave, the steady drip of water off stalactites giving him some measure of time and sense of location. There wasn’t usually such bright green in caves.

Sun blinked his eyes a few times, trying to clear them. Slowly the world seemed to come into focus, but there was still much too much green and it flashed in and out of focus ever few seconds. Tying for some truly impressive move, Sun actually moved his hand to his face and tried to rub at his eyes. It took a few tries, but he managed it in the end and when he moved his hand back down Sun could see clearly what was in front of him. And it made him freeze where he lay.

The green that had baffled him so was an eye. An enormous, slit-pupiled eye as big as his head. And it was staring right at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer than expected, but I did it. I'll be taking a short break from this to work on a brief other story I've been wanting to do for a while now, but it shouldn't be nearly as long a break as last time. I'll be back.


End file.
